


What Dreams May Come

by InsidiousIntent



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alex is a BAMF, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone is young, Jim Valenti is still alive, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Inception, before Alex's injury, dream share is a thing here, this is pre-pilot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:47:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22840462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsidiousIntent/pseuds/InsidiousIntent
Summary: Alex sat on the hospital bed and tried to breath through the panic of reality reasserting itself. He had just been somewhere else - a car, he was driving, coming back to Roswell when his car was T-boned. The last thing he remembered was his consciousness fading, as people ran over to hopefully help him out of the car. And now he was here, in a hospital room, back in real life.
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 9
Kudos: 92





	What Dreams May Come

**Author's Note:**

> This is a birthday present for [AndreaLyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndreaLyn/pseuds/AndreaLyn) of course I'm a month late, but better late than never, I guess?! 
> 
> I hope you like this bb! This is deeply unbeta'ed so all mistakes are mine

* * *

Alex came to with a big gasp, feeling his lungs expand with air in a burst. His vision swam from the sudden movement, and his whole body cried out in protest. It felt like resurfacing from underwater, his body feeling loose and heavy. He waited for the dizziness to pass, before trying to get up again. The room he was in was clearly a hospital, small and white-washed, with equipment beeping, and sounds of machinery surrounding him. He fumbled out of bed, trying to see if he could find his prosthetic or a set of crutches, and almost fell out. His _right leg_ was still there. 

The realization knocked over him like a slow cresting wave - Alex had just woken up, after a long lucid dream. He hadn’t even deployed for his second tour yet. It was almost Thanksgiving of the year 2013 and Alex Manes was only twenty three years old. 

Alex sat on the hospital bed and tried to breath through the panic of reality reasserting itself. He had just been somewhere else - a car, he was _driving,_ coming back to Roswell when his car was T-boned. The last thing he remembered was his consciousness fading, as people ran over to hopefully help him out of the car. And now he was here, in a hospital room, back in _real life_.

He finally got out of the hospital bed, and saw that he was still in his fatigues. Old training regimen resurfaced, and he moved to the door, finding and slipping on his shoes silently. He needed to find out what was going on, why he was in a hospital since he should have been in his barracks. 

The hallway was dark and silent, and Alex felt dread build up in his veins. This wasn’t right, no hospital was this ever this dark and isolated. He walked slowly, the need to compensate for a prosthetic on his right keeping his gait uneven. He tried to think why anyone would need to make him think he was in a hospital and kept coming back to a single answer - Project Shepherd. It wouldn’t have been quite three years since the project had been formally shut down, and his father would still have enough to pull to keep things afloat. Alex needed a plan. He needed to make sure nothing about his dream was recorded by the Project Shepherd team, and he needed to get to Roswell. He needed to make sure his friends were ok, that Kyle and Liz were safe, and Michael. 

_Michael_ , his brain screamed. He needed to find Michael. He needed to protect Michael. 

He finally found a room that wasn’t fully dark and abandoned, and circled around slowly to make sure he wasn’t going to run into anyone. The room had multiple screens running, a lot of them showing people in white gowns attached to machines that kept them sleeping. PASIV, he remembered that’s what it was called. He remembered when he was dragged into his CO’s office, surrounded by military men who talked about Alex as a potential candidate for a top secret assignment. 

He had been lucky to have a CO who wasn’t part of the Manes circle of influence, and within the first year of basic he had been selected for Officers training. He had been lucky to have the team he had, and he wished he had listened to his gut instinct on why he did not want to go on some top secret assignment. He didn’t know back then, but only now did he realize that his father had clearly stolen more than one PASIV, and was using it for his own purposes. 

A noise disrupted his thoughts, and Alex froze, making sure to not make any movement. Footsteps came closer and the click of a gun had Alex moving, turning to move out of the way of any potential shots. The man in the room was military, holding a gun at Alex’s head. 

“Subject 235N, you are not supposed to be here,” the man said, his gun still held high. 

“I’m sorry, I just woke up. What is happening? Where am I?” Alex tried to project as much of a confused aura as possible. He couldn’t let this guy hold him here, but he didn’t have a weapon. Yet. He let his hands move behind him, grabbing hold of a pen. He needed to make this quick. 

“You shouldn’t be here, you need to go back to your room,” the guard said, coming closer, the gun still aimed at Alex. He needed to act fast, and he needed to act quietly. Alex had no idea how much his father already knew, and what proof they had collected. That guard was his only way of finding out more and getting out of there. 

The guard never saw it coming, one minute he was coming close to grab Alex, the next minute he was on the floor bleeding from his carotid artery. Alex moved quickly, grabbing keys and key card from the guard. 

Alex ran down the hallway, hat and jacket stolen from the guard. He thanked the universe for his father’s lack of technical prowess or paranoia, because he found the typed reports of all his conversations - with Kyle, with Jenna, with _Michael_ \- only they never happened. They were all one intricate dream. 

***

The phone number Alex had memorized for Kyle was picked up after only three rings. The voice on the other end was not Kyle, but it was a shockingly familiar one. 

“Jim Valenti,” said the voice of a dead man. Alex flinched hard from the shock, before remembering reality. Jim was still alive. 

“Jim? This is Alex Manes,” he said into the cell phone. He knew he needed to ditch this phone soon, the guard the phone belonged to would be discovered very soon. But he needed an assist first. 

Jim was silent long enough that Alex had to check if the call was dropped. “Alex Manes? I was told you were deployed to the middle east,” Jim finally replied. 

“Jim, I’m not in the middle east, and I need you to come get me. I don’t have a lot of time, but I need you to meet me at the coordinates I just texted you,” Alex spoke quietly but quickly. “I won’t have this phone for long, so please move fast.”

***

Two days later found Alex in Jim’s old hunting cabin, although it wasn’t as old as Alex remembered. The floors and kitchen were still clean, and the grotesque hunting trophies of stuffed animal heads were still on the walls. Alex’s memories glitch with the overlay of his dreams where he had removed the worst of the stuff, upgraded the rooms for accessibility, and the living room rug had revealed the existence of a bunker. But none of that had happened yet, and Alex still had a chance to change things. Fix some mistakes. 

Jim hadn’t kicked him out of the car when Alex talked to him about the dream share program, and he hadn’t immediately sectioned him, so Alex felt more confident sharing the details of the dream itself. Jim’s shock at the alien revelation from Alex cemented some things, but he still needed more information. 

“Jim, I know what my dad is up to, and I know that you’re involved in it too,” he said over a plate of churros, freshly delivered from Michelle Valenti’s kitchen. He sat there chewing, watching Jim struggle to divulge the truth. Alex could be patient. Not infinitely, but a little. 

“Alex, you have to know we were guarding against a large scale threat,” Jim started. Alex tried to stay still, letting Jim have the space to confess. “We thought we were saving lives by containing dangerous entities.” 

“Are you listening to yourself, _Sheriff_ Valenti?” Alex couldn’t keep a lid on his anger anymore. “Are you telling me that the unlawful detention of and experimentation on hundreds of people for _decades_ is your idea of saving lives? Is your moral compass _that_ corrupted?”

Jim looked at him with sad and knowing eyes. “No son, my moral compass was temporarily skewed. I saw the error of my ways years ago, but it’s too late for me to walk away from this mistake.” Alex knew what he meant. Once someone was ensnared in the web of hate and violence that was Jesse Manes and Project Shepherd, they couldn’t leave of their own volition. In the dream world, Jim Valenti had paid the price of such thinking with his life. Alex wasn’t going to let that happen this time. 

Alex started pacing the tiny space in the cabin. He still had a visible mismatch in his gait, his brain not able to match up to the reality of his not yet missing limb. But this wasn’t the time for fixing psychosomatic hangups, Alex needed to focus. 

He had to do something to fix things, but he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. He couldn’t just march up to Michael’s door and demand answers. He needed a plan, and an ally. 

He looked over where Jim sat with his head down, staring at the floor. 

“Is Max Evans a sheriff’s deputy yet?”

***

Max Evans looked young, but still burdened by a truth. Alex had watched from the living room as his cruiser had pulled up, a couple hours after Jim made the call. Max’s hair was cut short, and he hadn’t quite bulked up the way Alex remembered him looking five years from now. Youth and the strenuous nature of his job had very likely kept Max still looking like a cross country runner. He approached the door warily, one hand close to his weapon, as he knocked. Alex could see all that from his perch, conveniently hiding him from the front door. 

Jim was the one who opened the door. “Come on in Evans,” he said, greeting Max at the door and letting him inside.

Max walked in slightly more relaxed now that he could see Jim was unharmed, but his eyes immediately landed on Alex and he jumped a little. He was clearly not expecting Alex and Jim had obviously not cleared up anything from the way Max immediately looked on the defensive.

Jim walked up behind him and put a hand on Max’s shoulder. “Easy, Evans. Take a seat, this is just a conversation.”

Max slowly sat down and stared from Alex to Jim. “Everything alright, Sheriff?”

Jim took a deep breath before speaking, and Alex remembered the way he had to do the same - back when he had those conversations. Back when he never got a chance to plan any interaction. 

“Max, Alex needs to talk to you about something, but I need your assurance that you will hear him out.”

Max glanced at Alex for a moment and hesitated. Then to Alex’s immense relief, he nodded. 

Alex took a breath himself, bracing for Max’s reaction. 

“Max, I know what happened in Roswell in 1947.”

***

The wiring of the cabin had been old, and Alex felt a moment of deep annoyance at all the work that would be needed to recover and upgrade the wiring. Max’s reaction hadn’t been surprising, but Alex was still kicking himself for not talking out in the middle of the desert. Oh well. 

Max hadn’t taken kindly to the revelation of Alex’s knowledge about him. He had been even less understanding about the imprisonment and torture of alien survivors of the ‘47 crash, but had flat out refused to believe that Noah was dangerous and they were now at an impasse. 

“Ok but if Noah is who you say he is, you wouldn’t mind running a full background check on him, right?” Alex tried a new tactic. 

“Absolutely not! He’s my sister’s _boyfriend_. And a lawyer. And a golden retriever personified, there’s no way he’s this creepy killer just because you saw it in a dream!” 

Alex pinched his brow between his eyes, but Jim was already moving towards Max with a folder. “Your sister is in danger, Max. And you need to start seeing things for what they are.”

The folder had everything Alex had been able to compile about the identity of Noah Bracken in the couple days he had. It had the evidence of identity fraud and degree fraud, coupled with his presence around people who disappeared and were eventually found dead. He hoped Max would see reason. 

That night Jim brought over food, while Alex told Max the entire story of dream share, Project Shepherd, and what ended up happening to Max, Isobel, and Michael in his dream life. They sat outside the cabin, Alex enjoying a rare slouch on the stairs of the cabin, beer bottles hanging from their fingers. 

“I’ve been afraid of people knowing our secret my whole life,” Max said, stretching out his legs. “And it turns out not only did a lot of people know, they’ve been hurting my family for decades.” He chuckled sadly. “Some protector I am, huh.”

Alex was stunned to find that he could relate to Max in the moment. He was reminded of that moment after the Caulfield explosion, watching Michael’s hope and desires of a family go up in flames. All of Alex’s hopes of finding a sliver of happiness for Michael going up in flames. 

“You still have a chance to make things right, Max,” Alex said, an answer for a rhetorical question. “We can still help your brother and sister escape this psychopath, and if you trust me, we can go save some of your other family too.”

“Are you doing this for Michael?” Max’s question came out of nowhere.

“What?”

“Michael. Is all this for him? You both had a thing in high school and I always thought Rosa’s death put an end to it.” Max’s face was open and curious. “But that wasn’t it, right?” 

Alex had an entire moment of hesitation, when years of fear and violence had honed his reflexes to respond with deflection and protecting himself. But he also remembered the consequences of hiding his relationship with Michael. The hurts it led to, the bridges it burned, the people it hurt. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake. 

“Michael has been the one and only man I’ve loved in my whole life,” Alex responded, voice crisp. “And yes I want to protect him from my violently homophobic father who destroyed Michael’s hand just for making the mistake of loving me,” he pauses, fortifying himself, “but this is about more than just Michael. This is about you and Isobel, and the many living breathing people imprisoned for decades for no other reason than that they are different.” 

***

Alex was trying to remember the exact words Michael had used that day. The fated day when he came back to Roswell, trying to clear our the Foster Ranch under orders of his father. He was practically drunk on memories as Max’s cruiser rolled up to the ranch, coming to a stop by the airstream. 

He remembered the desert dust swirling around him as he had walked inside, Michael throwing himself on top of him. 

Max strolled up and knocked on the airstream door, waiting for Michael to open it instead of barging in. The deference in his movements looked a little clunky, but Alex appreciated the way Max had immediately internalized Alex’s comments about all the small ways Michael had suffered over the years. Alex knew Max intellectually understood that Michael had a rough life, but he would never understand the mundane exhaustion of this life. The way years of violence, poverty, and neglect leave you constantly exhausted, physically and mentally. 

He stood back to give Max some space, but also to give himself the distance he needed to prepare. To see Michael again, without the hurt and anger and loss between them. And never if Alex had anything to say about it.

The sound of someone walking up to them was probably drowned out by Max’s yelling around for his brother. 

“That’s private property, Deputy Evans!” Michael yelled from behind them. Max and Alex whirled around simultaneously. There he was, the love of Alex’s life. 

Michael’s face registered shock for a moment, and smoothed out into a sarcastic smirk. “Alex,” he drawled, “back from Baghdad.” 

Alex couldn’t help but grin, he had missed Michael. It felt like years, and in Alex’s dream world it had been years, but here standing in front of that ridiculous airstream, he couldn’t help but be overjoyed. 

“It’s good to see you, Guerin,” he said. Michael’s smirk faltered, brows pinching in confusion. He looked great, young like Alex and lithe like Max. Alex couldn’t believe he didn’t see the familial similarities, not in their appearances but their manners. 

“What are you doing here? I thought you were deployed overseas still,” Michael said. 

Max answered instead of him. “Michael we need to talk to you, and we need to do this inside. Right _now_.” 

Michael’s hesitation was clear, and Alex realized he must have had all his spaceship research strewn around if he didn’t want them inside. He decided to make things easier.

“Guerin, it’ll be ok. You can trust me,” he said. Michael looked up, confused.

Max looked at Alex and then at Michael, “he knows,” he murmured at Michael. 

Michael’s eyes widened, shock and fear tangible. 

“Guerin. _Michael_ ,” Alex started, “I have so much to tell you. Please give me a chance.”

Michael didn’t move right away, standing for a moment and staring at Alex. He must have found the answer he was looking for because he finally moved forward and opened the door of the airstream. 

“After you, Deputy,” he said to Max, who walked inside without a single word. Before Michael could follow, Alex quickly grabbed his good hand and brought it up to his lips. 

“Michael, I was not lying when I said it’s good to see you,” he said. “And I don’t plan on ever leaving you. I love you Michael Guerin.” 

The slow incredulous smile on Michael’s face was everything, and Alex grinned, young and happy and in love. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on [Tumblr](https://insidious-intent.tumblr.com/)


End file.
